


The goats are in charge now

by semicolonsandsimiles



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Chaos, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Goats, basically just utter nonsense, goat yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semicolonsandsimiles/pseuds/semicolonsandsimiles
Summary: “Ohhhh,” Calla says, in the tone that always means she’s about to say something Ronan won’t like, “I could teach goat yoga.”“My goats do not need to be taught yoga,” Ronan retorts, “They’re fucking acrobats already.”-----------------Ronan acquires goats. Calla teaches yoga. Chaos and absurdity ensue.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	The goats are in charge now

**Author's Note:**

> This nonsensical concept would not leave me alone until I wrote it, so here, have a fic about goat yoga.

It starts innocently, or at least as innocent as baby goats can be, which in hindsight is not very. The neighbors at the dairy goat farm have a nanny who gives birth to triplets. She rejects two of them. "I've only ever dealt with one bottle baby at a time," the harried neighbor tells Ronan when they run into each other at the mailboxes.

Ronan offers to take them with his usual amount of deliberation about consequences, which is to say none. He manages approximately 60 hours of regularly feeding impatient kids with impressively hard skulls. After one too many synchronized head-butting assaults while he’s preparing their milk - _can you not wait one more minute, you little ingrates_ \- he caves and dreams a nanny goat for them.

If Ronan feels vaguely guilty about most of his living dreams, he feels specifically guilty this time about dreaming a living creature for the purpose of serving other creatures. He tries to make it up to her by also dreaming her the ability to actually digest all the weird things goats like to chew on. Opal approves, and immediately accepts the nanny goat as her more ungulate sister or something. Once Ronan converts a shed into a goat barn - because even he has to concede that keeping an adult goat in the house is untenable - Opal starts sleeping there whenever she stays at the Barns. Probably just because she doesn’t want a bath, not because she likes the goats better than Ronan. Probably.

The neighbor chats him up about the goats the next time they meet. Turns out he has an ulterior motive: “Heard somebody dropped a mama goat and her kids off at the animal shelter. Goats are social critters, you know. Maybe you wanna build yourself a little herd?” Ronan would deny wanting that, if anyone asked him non-rhetorically, but somehow he ends up taking the goats home anyway.

* * *

Adam’s fondly bemused when Ronan answers his video call while bottle feeding the first goats. Thinks it’s hilarious when Ronan admits he’s unintentionally acquired even more goats. So it shouldn’t be a surprise when, the first time they visit Blue during Adam’s summer break, Adam announces Ronan’s new goat farmer status to all of Fox Way.

“Ohhhh,” Calla says, in the tone that always means she’s about to say something Ronan won’t like, “I could teach goat yoga.”

“My goats do not need to be taught yoga,” Ronan retorts, “They’re fucking acrobats already.”

Calla snorts. Blue cackles. The expressions of mirth from the rest of Fox Way’s residents suggest that Ronan may be missing something. Once Blue’s done laughing at him, she explains the concept of goat yoga. It’s no less absurd once Ronan knows what it actually means. 

“Yeah, that’s also a thing my goats don’t need,” Ronan tells Calla.

“But it’s a fascinating concept, don’t you think?” Gansey interrupts whatever argument Calla was about to make, because of-fucking-course he thinks it’s fascinating. “It’s a combination of movement therapy and animal therapy. It sounds like it might be very efficacious.”

Ronan scoffs at him. “No, Gans, I don’t think it’s fascinating. I think it’s nonsense. It definitely wouldn’t be _therapeutic_.” He puts as much disdain as possible on the last word.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s meant to be therapeutic for the students,” Maura says. “I think this idea is all for Calla’s benefit.”

Calla sighs dramatically. “You’re not supposed to tell my secrets, Maura. But yes, what I really want is to watch your goats harass a bunch of Aglionby moms.”

“You’re proposing to bring _Aglionby moms_ to my _house_?” This concept seems somehow more absurd than goat yoga. “Hell-shitting-fuckfire, no.”

“No one says we have to clean the goat pen before they come,” Adam offers, the traitor. “Maybe being head butted into a pile of goat poop is an important yogic practice.” He looks at Calla. “Anyway, you teach yoga to Aglionby moms? Don’t you get more than enough of them at work?”

“I don’t _specifically_ teach Aglionby moms, they’re just half the people who show up.” Calla rolls her eyes. “Anyway, you could try telling them it’s a yogic practice, but they won’t give a fuck. They just come for the virtue-signalling.”

“Calla teaches yoga because she enjoys telling Aglionby moms what to do in an environment where they’ll actually do it,” Maura says. Calla rolls her eyes again, but doesn’t deny it. 

“Sounds very zen,” Adam deadpans.

“Let’s stop talking about Aglionby moms, ew,” Blue interjects. “What about the rest of us? Maybe I wanna try goat yoga.”

“You wanna be harrassed by my goats?” Ronan grins at her. “You don’t have to use yoga as an excuse, maggot. Come by any time.”

“I would need to do a trial run before I offered an official class.” Calla gives Ronan a calculating look. “What if I do a test class with just the people here?”

“And Henry,” Blue adds. “He’ll be back this weekend.”

“Well damn,” Ronan grumbles, “I was about to agree until you brought Cheng into this.” The rest of the people in the room give him unimpressed looks.

“You agreed to only heckle Henry when he’s here to defend himself,” Gansey admonishes. 

Ronan doesn’t remember an actual agreement, but he had, in a possibly ill-advised moment of candor, admitted it’s fun to trade insults with Henry. He sighs. “Yeah, fine. When are we doing this goat yoga thing?”

* * *

What with one thing and another, it’s two weeks later when they do the goat yoga thing. Adam convinces him that they do actually have to muck out the goat pen - “goat poop is only hilarious to you, the rest of us have more mature senses of humor” - which definitely isn’t true, but whatever. 

Ronan named one kid from each pair himself and let Adam name the other two, which seemed only fair until Adam said, “I’m naming one of them Glendower.”

“I revoke your naming privileges.”

“Fine, you got me. I’m naming them Pythagoras and Hypatia.”

“Nerd,” Ronan says, but it’s better than Glendower. His kids are named Sledgehammer and Mallet, because he has a reputation to uphold. The dreamt nanny goat he names Brush Hog. The adopted nanny was named Jane when he got her, so obviously he’s keeping that. 

Opal shows up to “help” while they’re cleaning the goat pen. Mostly this involves tasting bedding straw and other things she finds lying around. “Why are you taking that away?” She asks, as they’re moving the manure to the compost pile. “That’s what makes it smell so good here.”

“Most people don’t like that smell,” Adam tells her, with an admirably straight face. “We’re cleaning it because our friends are coming over for goat yoga.” Their attempts to explain the concept of _goat yoga_ to Opal fall short. She gets the goat part just fine, but apparently there’s no definition of yoga that’s shaped to fit into her brain.

“The goats will not be interested,” she says authoritatively. “Maybe you should let them be in charge.”

“We’ll keep that option in mind,” Ronan says. He also thinks it sounds like a better idea than goat yoga.

The caravan of cars from Fox Way arrives just as they’ve finished the mucking out. Which is a bit disappointing, since Ronan had kind of hoped he’d get to see Gansey and Cheng attempt to help with that chore. 

Orla and Gwenllian have tagged along with the group that was part of the original discussion. They’re a study in opposites; Gwenllian looks like someone convinced her to wear leggings under her usual layers of skirts and dresses, while Orla has a matching skin-tight set of shorts, sports bra, and...Ronan thinks those are called leg warmers, and is embarrassed that he knows that.

Blue and Henry disturbingly look like they dressed to match each other. Henry is wearing lime green leggings he almost certainly borrowed from Blue. Thankfully he’s also wearing neon purple booty shorts, a phrase Ronan never expected to think. Blue’s paired her traffic-cone-orange leggings with...Gansey’s Aglionby shorts, probably. They’re navy blue and too long to properly be called shorts on her.

Gansey’s also wearing Aglionby shorts, and the matching T-shirt. Next to this motley assortment, Maura and Calla look forgettably normal in yoga pants and tank tops.

Ronan picks the easy target. “Cheng. Did you get lost on the way to Burning Man?”

“Just testing potential accoutrements,” Henry says, chipper. “I see you’re displaying all the colors of your soul, as usual.”

“Right,” Calla says, jerking her thumb towards the Fox Way sedan. “Save the fashion commentary for later. Everyone get a yoga mat out of the trunk.”

Everyone except Ronan clumps around the trunk and comes away with a rolled-up mat under one arm. Calla raises her eyebrows at Ronan. “I’m the goat wrangler,” he defends himself. “I can’t do yoga at the same time.”

Calla throws the mat she’s holding at him so he has to catch it in self-defense. “You can try,” she says.

Ronan tries, he really does, but Calla’s instructions might as well be in a foreign language for all the success he’s having following them. Apparently “begin in a comfortable seated position” doesn’t include Ronan’s preferred position with legs sprawled out, leaning back on his hands. Apparently he doesn’t know how to breathe correctly. Apparently yogic standing is complicated.

Calla points all this out in her yoga teacher voice, which is infinitely calmer and more patient than her normal voice. She tells Gansey to fold forward with his hips, not his back; tells Henry to move from his core; tells Blue to stop showing off, “I said malasana, not crow pose.” 

Sledgehammer punctuates this by bounding onto Blue’s back, using her as a springboard to catapult himself into Adam. All three of them end up in undignified heaps on the ground, Blue and Adam laughing helplessly while the kid launches itself back on its feet and prances away to hide behind its mother.

“Looks like it’s time for me to wrangle goats,” Ronan says, sitting down from the deep squat they’d all been in before standing up to head towards the goats.

“Nooo,” Blue calls, between giggles, “This is exactly what goat yoga is supposed to be like!”

"Exactly," Calla agrees, "it's about learning to adapt to circumstances outside of your control."

"Is it," Adam says, from where he's still lying on one side. "Because I think whether or not you do yoga inside a goat pen _is_ very much within your control."

"Did the goat bruise your ego, Parrish?" Henry asks.

"No." Adam pushes himself back up to sitting. "Maybe my shoulder, though."

"Oh-" Gansey begins with concern, but Calla cuts him off.

"Blue, this is why humility is an important part of a yoga practice." Ronan's pretty sure she's just bullshitting them with yogic platitudes now, although Blue looks reasonably abashed.

"Sorry, Adam," she says. "I'll direct the goat projectile at Henry next time."

"Sounds delightful," Henry says. "Although so far they seem to be avoiding me." Sledgehammer's still hiding, but the other kids are milling about, taking the occasional experimental nibble of clothing or hair.

"You move too abruptly for them," Maura says, before Ronan can offer a snarky comment. "Try sitting still for a bit."

"Good plan," Calla agrees. "It's time for the goat mediation portion of class. Everyone return to a comfortable seated position."

This time Calla doesn't criticize Ronan's interpretation of the phrase. "Is this the part where we're supposed to have some new-agey mantra or some shit?" He asks.

"Oh dear," Calla says, so poker-faced Ronan isn't entirely sure she's joking. "I forgot about setting intentions at the beginning of class. Let's do that now. For instance -" she looks at Henry - "an intention could be something like 'a goat will come to me.'"

"A goat will come to me," Henry intones.

"Repeat it to yourself," Calla says solemnly, "this is a silent mediation."

For a minute or two, everyone sits as still and silent as can be expected with the goats cavorting around. The kids caper from person to person to interesting object in their pen, while the nannies amble sedately, glancing suspiciously between their kids and the humans.

The silence is broken when Jane wanders over to Henry and gives his head an experimental lick. “Hey,” Henry exclaims, “Watch the hairstyle!”

“Maybe she’s grooming you,” Gansey suggests. “Didn’t you want a goat to approach you?”

“I wanted her to befriend me, not mother me,” Henry grumbles, though he makes no attempt to shoo Jane away.

“Scratch between her eyes, they like that,” Adam offers. Henry cautiously follows this advice, and Jane gently butts her head against his fingers.

“Anyone who wishes to continue with goat bonding time may,” Calla says, “everyone else, let’s finish up this yoga class.”

Now that the goats have warmed up to the large number of people in their pen, they’re making successful yoga poses difficult. Hypatia has become enamored with Gwenllian’s layers of clothing and decided they’re her own personal textile buffet; she’s undeterred by Gwenllian’s scolding and shoo-ing. Sledgehammer and Mallet are bouncing around to wherever they see the most potential for tripping or unbalancing someone. Pythagoras has planted himself on Adam’s mat because he’s shy, as goats go, and Adam is his favorite person. 

With the possible exception of Opal, who’s chosen this point to show up and encourage the goat kids to mischief. “Hey goats,” she yells, “Is it your turn to be in charge yet?”

The kids prance over to Opal with the nannies following. “Yes!” Opal says. “Follow me!” She sprints a circuit of the pen, then dashes over to tackle Ronan while he’s mid-tree pose attempt. He finds himself on his back, Opal still attached to one leg and at least two inquisitive goat noses in his face. 

Ronan tilts his head so he can look at Calla upside down. "Is this circus over yet?"

"NO." Opal puts her face right up to his. "THE GOATS ARE IN CHARGE NOW."

"Alright," Calla says. She smirks at Ronan. "What pose are the goats teaching us?"

"FUN POSE," Opal yells up Ronan's nose. She dashes away again, goats capering behind.

Calla watches their path of chaos for a few moments. "Alright," she says finally, "I think savasana is the only remaining pose we can safely attempt."

“Ah,” Gansey says, “Finally.” He reclaims his shorts from Mallet, who’s been nibbling on the hem, and stretches out on his back.

Ronan looks askance from where he’s still sprawled on his own back. “Don’t think that’s a yoga pose, Dick,” he says.

Blue snorts. “Shows what you know, Lynch.” She lies down too, as do Maura and Henry, all apparently familiar with this strange ritual.

Calla makes a shooing motion at Ronan, which would make more sense if he weren’t already lying down. “It’s the most important yoga pose,” she informs him.

“So not standing pose, then?”

Adam reaches over from his now-prone position to poke Ronan’s shoulder. “Mountain pose, pay attention, Lynch.”

“I know standing when I see it.” Ronan shifts so his limbs are in a position more like everyone else’s. “Okay, so how does sleeping pose work?”

Calla examines his new position. “I think you’ve figured this one out.” She stretches out on her own mat. “Everyone close your eyes -”

Her presumably calming instructions are interrupted by a kid bounding onto her stomach en route to somewhere. “Fucking _hellspawn,_ ” Calla yells, rolling onto her side in fetal position.

Ronan winces; his stomach has experienced the full force of baby goat hooves before. “We can finish outside the goat pen,” he offers.

“We can finish in the _house_ , where you presumably have ice packs,” Calla grits out, curled over the arm wrapped around her stomach.

Adam and Maura spring into action. “I’m sure we have something,” Adam says, “I’ll find it.” Maura helps Calla up and supports her on the walk to the house. Blue and Orla follow.

“Uh,” Gansey says. “Is there anything you need help with goatwise?”

“Yeah!” Opal calls, running towards them. “Play time!”

“Chaos time,” Gwenllian agrees, sedately. It figures she would be on Opal’s side.

“We’re going inside,” Ronan says, “but anyone who wants to play with the chaos gremlins can stay here, I guess.” He and Gansey head towards the house, trailed by Henry, who keeps looking back at whatever pandemonium is going on in the goat pen.

“You don’t have to follow us, Cheng,” Ronan tells him. “Go devolve into chaos.” 

“Tempting,” Henry says, “but I seem to have suddenly developed a healthy fear of goat hooves.”

They go inside.

Calla is propped in a corner of the couch holding a bag of frozen peas against the injured spot. Maura appears to be doing her best not to hover. “Adam went to find some painkillers,” she informs the rest of the boys.

“‘K,” Ronan says. “Guess I forgot to warn you that tiny goats can magically increase their weight when they jump on you. How’s the blunt force trauma?”

“It’ll be fine,” Calla grumbles. “And your goats don’t magically increase in weight, they increase the amount of force they can apply by accelerating. _I_ didn’t drop out of high school.” 

“Hey, I know about acceleration,” Ronan protests. “It’s how you win drag races.”

“Sure,” Calla says wryly, “that’s the key thing you should take away from physics class. Got any iced tea?”

“Yep,” Ronan says. He doesn’t move to get any because he sees Blue and Orla already in the kitchen, the latter poking her head into the fridge. “Hey, fridge witch,” he calls, “what are you looking for in there? Calla wants iced tea.”

“I’m looking for your alcohol, pretty boy,” Orla yells back. “Might even share it with Calla.”

Blue rolls her eyes and joins Orla at the fridge. “You’re not gonna find any,” she says. “I’ll get the tea.”

“So,” Ronan says, once Calla is reasonably mollified by painkillers and iced tea, “Still planning to subject Aglionby moms to my forcefully accelerating goats?”

“As much as I’d enjoy that,” Calla says, “I don’t think the liability’s worth it.”


End file.
